


you light me up like a neon sunrise

by catteo



Series: it must be fate, i found a place for us [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, prize for the first one to find them all, so many in jokes that i am almost disgusted at myself, the club AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3700547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catteo/pseuds/catteo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ali is desperate for Trip/Rose in any universe as it turns out. And she is my friend. So I try to make her happy. </p>
<p>This is set about 4 years prior to the main Club AU. Trip and Grant have been friends for years, but Grant's always been a bit quiet about his home life. All that Trip knows is that Grant's father cut him off from the family fortune when he refused to go to Harvard Law like Christian. Grant argues that a legacy really requires more than two generations. That's probably why he also loses his car. Trip's been bragging about his mixology skills for years and Grant finally takes him up on his offer to create cocktails the likes of which LA has never seen before. It could all go horribly wrong before it even begins. And then a beautiful girl turns up. Isn't that always how it goes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	you light me up like a neon sunrise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [serenitysea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/gifts).



Trip’s actually kind of nervous. He and Grant have been friends for years, but everyone always says that you shouldn’t work for your friends, and Trip’s just a little anxious that maybe he’s about to prove “everyone” right. Grant’s put every penny that he’s ever made into this business, and Trip absolutely cannot let him down. Opening night is kind of a big deal and Trip’s created a menu of cocktails that he’s convinced will be the talk of the town for weeks to come. The only problem he’s having is that there’s no rum. 

 

He wonders if maybe the text he sent Grant was a little overdramatic. Probably the word ‘Mayday’ should be used for actual emergencies, like the club burning down or that crazy girl from last week finding Grant’s home address. But, if it gets him the rum, then Trip doesn’t really care.

 

He’s sitting counting mint leaves in order to calm himself down when the sound of the door opening drags his attention away from the task at hand. The problem is that he keeps forgetting what number he got to and having to start over. Which is actually stressing him out even more. Who the hell decided that mint leaves should all look the same anyway?

 

“Sorry, we’re not open.” Was he up to ninety-three or ninety-four? Trip sighs the sigh of a man who has reconciled himself to his fate and decides to slice limes instead. He could have left it to John, but the man’s a total idiot. Trip’s pretty sure that Grant’s going to fire him by the end of the week. John, not Trip. Unless Grant’s going to fire them both…

 

“It’s okay, I know the owner.” A girlish voice pulls him out of his worsening downward spiral. He looks up to see a woman’s figure silhouetted by the sunshine that’s beaming in through the open door. He has to blink a couple of times to clear his vision as she moves closer. The halo in his vision clears, but she carries on looking like an angel.

 

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?” Trip’s not falling for this one. Sure, she may be beautiful, but he’s had to run enough interference for Grant in the past to know that appearances can be deceptive. This woman looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. 

 

“Grant.” She chuckles through the word, a rich melody that fills the room and makes him smile.

 

“C’mon girl, anyone could tell me his first name, you’ve gotta give me something better than that.” Trip realizes that he’s leaning precariously over the counter, his elbow crushing at least twenty of his precious mint leaves. He suddenly can’t remember why they were even important.

 

“Grant. Douglas. Ward.” She annunciates every syllable with precision. She arches her brows at him as she says it and Trip really needs his brain to sort out where he knows her from.

 

“Okay, fine. Can’t be too careful you understand.” Trip flashes her his biggest smile.

 

“Oh, no, I totally get it. Grant will be delighted that you’re being so diligent.” She heads towards him, an absolute vision in denim and leather. Trip’s pretty sure that he’s in love. “He does have such a terrible time of it with all those girls whose hopes he’s constantly crushing. I can’t wait for the day that some amazing girl comes along and totally blows him away. I just hope she makes him work for it. And I’d really like it if she’d make him cry.” Her grin is wicked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

“From your mouth to God’s ears.” Trip’s probably slightly more enthusiastic with his agreement than he should be, given that he still doesn’t actually know who this woman is. Other than somebody he’d like to spend a whole lot more time with.

 

“I’m Antoine.” He extends a hand to her across the bar. She takes it in hers, her grip firm, practiced. “You can call me Trip though, everyone does.” He sees the instant look of recognition on her face. She doesn’t let go of his hand though, that’s important.

 

“Oh, you’re Trip. I should have known.” She lets go of his hand then. Trip tries not to read into it. “Grant wouldn’t shut up about you and your great cocktails and how you’re the best barman alive. I mean, I think some of it was just to piss my boyfriend off, but he carried on even after Sunil had left. So some of it was probably true.” She crinkles her nose at him to let him know she’s joking. It’s almost enough to make Trip forget the comment about the boyfriend. Not quite though.

 

“Sunil? As in Bakshi?” Trip’s careful to keep his voice even, but her eyes narrow and he realizes that he’s probably not doing as good of a job as he thought. In his defense he’s heard nothing but terrible things about this guy. Stories of underpaying his staff, being overly friendly with his hostesses, drugs in the bathrooms and watering down the booze. 

 

“He’s not as bad as Grant makes out, you know. Grant’s just jealous that Whitehall’s doing better than Empire did.” She shrugs at him and Trip recognizes an argument that’s been rolled out several times before. He has no idea what Bakshi’s managed to say to convince a girl like this to stay with him, but he really has to side with Grant on this one. The guy is Bad News.

 

“Hey, Empire may have been small, but it was incredibly successful. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. How do you think Grant managed to afford this place?” Trip feels suddenly absurdly protective of both Grant and the club. He’s got a lot of good memories of Empire. He’s sure that Hydra’s going to be a huge success too, but part of him misses the intimate vibe of the old place. 

 

“Hey, Trip, don’t get me wrong. I’m so incredibly proud of Grant for what he’s managed to accomplish. Especially after he got cut off for refusing to go to law school.” She shrugs at him. “It’s just that he’s kind of…” She pauses, searching for the right word. Trip’s fascinated by the way that she pulls the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she thinks. He’s sure that there’s something else that he’s supposed to be doing, but he really can’t remember what it is. She smells like lemons. Is he meant to be picking lemons?

 

“Should have known you’d be distracting the barman. Typical.” Grant’s tones echo in the empty room. Trip jerks to attention and nearly slices his hand open on the knife that somebody appears to have carelessly left right by his hand.

 

The girl lets out a squeal of delight and launches herself across the room, singing Grant’s name. Trip would be prepared to pay good money to have her do that for him.

 

“Hey Rosie.” Grant enfolds her in a hug. Trip finds it utterly enchanting that she has to stand on her toes in order to get her arms around Grant’s neck, even with him bending over. Grant raises a quizzical eyebrow at him behind Rosie’s back and Trip tries his best to wipe the goofy grin off his face. Suddenly it hits him. Rosie. Rose Ward. Grant’s little sister. No wonder the cheekbones looked familiar. They all look like bloody movie stars. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Trip? You look like you’ve been sampling your own drinks.” Grant doesn’t even bother untangling Rosie’s limbs from his, just walks her across the room, clinging to him like a monkey, and deposits her back on her stool.

 

“Nah, man. No rum. Can’t make drinks without rum.” Trip’s congratulating himself on a glorious save when he realizes that the strange noises coming from Rosie’s direction are giggles, rapidly turning into full-blown laughter.

 

“Oh, Trip, honestly. There are fifty bottles of liquor on the shelf behind you. Surely you can whip up something if you’re as great as Grant says.” She leans forward, conspiratorially. “I dare you.”

 

“Rosie…” Grant’s voice carries a note of warning. “Let’s not start with the dares.”

 

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes. “When did you get so boring. Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Thomas tells me you’ve practically had to install a revolving door at your place, I’d think you were turning into father.” Rosie drawls her way through the last word. She pauses for a moment, as Grant levels a dangerous glare at her, before continuing. “No, you’re right, definitely more Christian’s thing.” She’s off the stool and running out the door before Trip even realizes what’s going on.

 

“All Star Track and Field. I gave up trying to catch her years ago.” Grant shakes his head in disgust before he turns to Trip. “When you’ve finished ogling my sister, I’ll take a soda water.”

 

“Whatever man, I wasn’t ogling.” Trip’s always been a terrible liar.

 

“Sure you weren’t.” Grant turns his attention towards the entrance again. “Excellent. Here’s back-up with the rum.” He raises his voice. “Hey, Thomas, Trip’s got a crush on Rosie. You want to tell him or should I?”

 

“She’ll eat you alive, man. Run whilst you still can.” Thomas’s entrance is somewhat marred by the fact that Rosie chooses that exact moment to reappear and jump on his back. “Jesus, Rosie, what’ve you been eating. You weigh a bloody ton. I’ve carried full-grown deer that weigh less than you.”

 

“The bodies of men who displease me, Thomas. They were delicious thanks for asking. Now giddy-up.”

 

“Remember this moment, Trip. Remember how we tried to warn you.” Grant claps his hand onto Trip’s shoulder.

 

Rosie’s busy trying to kick Thomas in the shins to make him move faster, her head tipped back, face creased in a smile, and peals of laughter drifting in the air around her. 

 

Trip’s pretty certain he’s in love.


End file.
